Deadmen tell their tales just fine…
by In Deeds Reflected
Summary: In the falling snow, a single forgotten Deadman reflects on his life and death. pre-game


**Deadmen tell their tales just fine…**

A badass Fanfic by _In deeds Reflected..._

**Sometime in June…**

It was sometime near the end of June I think…although I guess I could be wrong, after what _they_did to me I can hardly tell yesterday from two minutes ago, so what do I know anymore? But, I think it was June…

My name is…_was_ Grajuro, I'd tell you my last name, but to be honest for once in my life, I'd rather not, no need to bring up family if you know what I mean. For most of my life I was small time hood acting bigger then I really was, always scrounging for my next big break but getting nowhere fast. So yeah, I was nobody, at least nobody worth remembering anyway, well at least that's what I thought for a while, but I guess someone else thought different.

I was commissioned to pull a job, nothing big time, just some bullshit. I remember it all happened so fast; all we had to do was intercept an unmarked shipment that was heading for a warehouse. It belonged to some big shot up and comer named Mac something, Macdule or Macdell, something like that anyway. I guess he was connected, but by the time we got out of there with the goods we'd be so far ahead of them that they wouldn't even catch our shadows, much less us. I don't remember much of what happened next, one minute I was hauling ass down a stretch of road, the next I was laying on the ground and bleeding out bad. I remember the blood, god knows I wish I didn't, but there was so much blood…

I managed to get to my feet, but only for a second before I fell back on my ass, the other guys who were with me though, they just didn't get back up at all. My eyes were stained red, so I thought I was just seeing things when this guy in a black suit, with skin whiter than creation, wearing sunglasses and some sort of wing sprouting from his neck, walks over and picks me up, that's when it all went black… When I woke up I saw through eyes that were no longer my own, they stared at room that I never knew before then, and one I hope to never see again, with my eyes or any others. I moved my shoulder that led to my arm, my arm that led to my fingers, and when I moved the fingers that used to be mine, the fingers that led up to arm that_used_ to be mine, the shoulder that _used_ to be mine… I could feel it ya know? Something wasn't right, even before _they_told me what I was, or more appropriately what was disguising it's self as me, a mockery would be to kind to explain what I'd become, more like a bad pun then a person.

The eyes that I was now borrowing were met by a man in a white coat, he was staring at me with eyes that unlike mine, I'm sure were his, the lucky bastard. He told me to step forward and I did, not for him though, if my shoulders and arms and fingers were no longer mine, then maybe my lower half was still my personal property. I would cry if I thought I could, but from the moment my legs moved and my feet touched the floor I knew there was nothing left, nothing real anyway, all I had been, the person I used to be, was left on that road that night. Forsaken internally by the body and mind that used to belong to me, I remember feeling cheated more then anything, all that talk about bright lights and your life flashing before your eyes and such, I didn't even get stinking pen light in my last moments. Maybe I didn't deserve it though, maybe this was my punishment for all that I'd done, or maybe, the me who really was me was already in that better place that seemed to have exiled the current me.

The guy in the white coat kept talking to me, but I decided not to listen, it didn't feel right, using ears that weren't mine, so I just blocked it all out for a while. Other men in white coats came after a while and led me to another room, they put me through all sorts of tests, strength tests, endurance tests, I guess I passed because all the men in white coats kept smiling every time I survived another test. That's when I really knew that I wasn't me anymore, I knew Grajuro, and Grajuro sure as hell couldn't withstand a hail of bullets, and he certainly couldn't live through a flame-thrower to the face. What I was, was not Grajuro, I might have looked like him, I might have thought like him, but I couldn't _feel_ like him. Losing sense of one's self is still better then losing your entire being, if you lose sense of yourself, you can look in the mirror to help remind you, but when you become what I am you don't even have a mirror to look into anymore.

Time ceased to have meaning for me after that, why bother keeping track of time when the real you is already dead? Test after test, the men in white coats wouldn't stop and even though the body was no longer my own, I sure as hell was getting tired of all the damn tests. They kept coming up with new ways to try and destroy me, sometimes they even came close, but they never succeeded, or maybe they just weren't trying hard enough. The eyes that had been loaned to me watched as a variety of men came to see the false me, one in particular wearing a colorful Chinese silk suit had smiled widely at me, another, larger man, wearing sunglasses had said nothing upon seeing me, in fact he almost seemed silently pained by what he witnessed. A fat man wearing a suit eventually joined the other two, and although he didn't appear as happy as the man in the oriental suit, he looked over the false me with the eyes of a businessman and nodded in agreement. The last man also wore sunglasses, but he was smoking a cigarette unlike the second man, despite everything he didn't seem to care less about the situation at hand. After that I didn't get any more visitors.

More then anything else, I remember the transfusions, they reminded the false me of the last moments of the real me, all the blood surging into my false body forced it to stay alive despite what any other part of the fake me wanted. The blood was my ultimate sorrow, the final kick in the ass after everything else, because although the veins it pulsed through were no longer my own, at least at one point that had been mine, the blood however wasn't on loan like the rest of me, it was stolen and forced into me. If I had any doubts about what I was the blood made sure to remind me. I started feeling out of it when I didn't get it though, like I was slipping away. The first time it happened I thought that maybe I had finally been released, but then the damn transfusions started and what was left of my hope was shattered.

An older balding man with glasses and a beard started seeing me on a regular basis not long after the transfusions started. Like the others he wore long white coat and from what I could tell it looked like he was in charge. I thought about being angry with him, if he was in charge then he probably was the reason the fake me continued to persist, instead of rotting away like it was supposed to. But by then it didn't seem to matter anymore, the residual fragments of the real me were starting to fade faster and faster, and I could barely tell who I was anymore, or rather who I was supposed to be. It all seemed to be falling away, and I didn't mind anymore, I was lost from the moment I was found so who cared? Not so long after that my question was answered, because I started taking hold of myself again for some reason, so maybe someone did care. The transfusions began to feel different all of a sudden, they used to feel like they were flushing the fake me away, and replacing it with yet another me, on that didn't have even a false sense of things. After the man in with the beard in the white coat arrived though, it felt like the false me was regaining himself.

It was raining the night when I was taken out of the room for the first time; the man in the white coat with the beard had taken me away when everyone else was gone. He put me in the back of truck filled with all kinds of machines and he started driving. I'm not sure how long I was riding in the back of that truck, or where we were going but it felt like we were moving pretty fast. When we finally stopped the man with the beard in the white coat let me out in what I could only imagine was a forest. He said something, but by then my false ears stopped hearing anything, but he looked concerned as he tried to explain something to the false me. That's when the wind picked up, and we were surrounded my bright lights. A helicopter descended from the sky and hovered just above the ground, inside my false eyes saw a well-dressed man in a white overcoat. He smiled with a grin hollower then any even I could have mustered. He and the man with the beard and white coat looked like they were arguing over something, and in the end the man in helicopter frowned and signaled to head back up, as he did several men in black suits jumped off and moved around us.

It took me a moment but it came back to me, all the men in black suits looked like the one that had carried the real me away on the night the false me was created. Sunglasses adorned all their faces, which were as unearthly pale as I remembered them; they all wore identical black suits, and the strange wings coming from their necks. The man with the beard and white coat appeared to be frightened of them, that's when my false eyes noticed the guns they were carrying and I began to realize the depth of the situation. I pushed in front of the man in the white coat and beard and faced one of them. It didn't matter what happened to this me, the real me had already passed, but the man in the white coat with the beard was still himself as far as I could tell, and I wouldn't let what had happened to me happen to him. I wasn't armed, but it didn't matter really, I was a horrible shot anyway, or at least the real me had been but I didn't expect any different from the false me. Plus, for the first time since I was the real me I began to regain a sense of self, and even if it was a false self, this new self understood what it was, and this new self understood that the bullets in their guns meant nothing to this new self.

It all happened at a terrible speed, the strength that the false me possessed was beyond anything the real me could have understood. In mere moments all that was left of the men in black suits was powder on the ground, and as the false me stared at the hands that were no longer my own I began to feel the real me for a moment. A second later the false me fell to the ground, a sudden sense of alleviation followed by a feeling of falling overwhelmed the false me, who by now was feeling again like the real me. It came to me a moment later, the blood, the stolen blood that had been forced on me was beginning wear off again. Maybe for the first time I was real me again, all of that stolen blood had run it's course and all that was left was the real me again. The man with the beard in the white coat walked over to where I sat, for the first time in such a long while as the real me, and placed his hand on my shoulder. He said something to me, and for the first time in a long while I allowed my ears hear, again my own, they heard him utter only one word…"Rest".

I let myself fall backwards onto the ground, I looked up at the night sky above and saw what looked like stars, but then I realized it was snow falling. The snow, it was snowing the first time I passed, I remember thinking "Why the hell is it snowing in June?" and then it went black. What a strange thing to remember…Maybe those were the lights I'd been looking for the first time, maybe I just didn't think about it before, or maybe this time it was just that my eyes weren't stained red. Whatever the reason, this time the falling snow brought peace that I couldn't see before. Tears rolled down my face even though I thought they couldn't anymore, and just before it all faded over again I remember thinking, "Why the hell is it snowing in June?".

"Rain drops fall from the sky, scrape through the buildings and sprinkle out as they turn into snow.

Everything begins from such tranquility…"


End file.
